


The summer of thy bright regard

by tungstenpincenez



Series: The Green that Never Dies [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tungstenpincenez/pseuds/tungstenpincenez
Summary: Mycroft calls. Sherlock panics.





	The summer of thy bright regard

Sherlock was looking at blood stains under his microscope when his phone vibrated. He looked down at his call display in a panic.

“Mycroft! Are you—”

“I’m fine, Sherlock.” (Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief.) “Merry Christmas, brother mine.”

Sherlock frowned at his phone. Putting it back to his ear, he said caustically, “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do these phone calls anymore.”

Mycroft sighed. “My apologies. Something rather unexpected occurred. If you have not been strong-armed into spending your entire day with your goddaughter, might I request two hours of your time today?”

“They will arrive by 10 am. John’s sister has suddenly taken a fancy to meet Rosie, so they will be off to her house for the afternoon. I shall be at the manor for two o’clock.”

After Mycroft hung up, Sherlock breathed another sigh of relief and felt his heart rate return to normal. Ever since Mycroft’s car accident two weeks ago (Lady Smallwood herself ensured that the drunken moron responsible would never touch a steering wheel again), he’d been on edge whenever his phone rang. He’d nearly suffered a concussion from tripping over his bedsheet when he’d stood too quickly after seeing the call display for “The Competent P.A.” (he’d stopped guessing her weekly _nom de plume_ long ago), who’d merely phoned to confirm that Mycroft had arrived safely at his flat after the discharge from hospital.

Lestrade had been unenviably tasked with delivering the bad news and safely escorting him to the hospital. Sherlock was later informed that he’d had a meltdown. He remembered none of his “atrocious behaviour” (according to Mummy). He only came out of his haze when Mycroft opened his eyes and smiled at him. He vividly recalled nearly smothering his brother with kisses.

Mycroft opened the door himself and fondly allowed his brother to scrutinize him from head to foot. He’d only suffered minor injuries and retained but a residual of pain from the deep bruise in his side. He hummed as Sherlock pressed lips with him. 

Sherlock followed his brother into the sitting room and stopped short when he espied the large package. Mycroft returned his raised brow and indicated that he examine it more closely. His eyes widened and locked with Mycroft’s when he read the inscription in Father’s neat hand: “To Mycroft and Sherlock with love from Dada and Mummy”. They’d stopped calling their father that endearment since… 

“Since we were placed in the local school after Eurus was taken away, to ‘learn to make friends’,” Mycroft supplied, knowing his brother could not have remembered the chronology. “Mummy was upset at being forced to stop the home schooling and began her sentences about him with ‘your father’.” 

“Shall we open this together, then?” At Mycroft’s nod, Sherlock took out his penknife and sliced through the tape. The brothers locked shocked eyes when the box opened to reveal a gleaming silver tea service. It was the only heirloom that they’d salvaged after the fire.

“It is an original set from the Louis XIV era. The family records are quite vague on the ‘services provided’ that resulted in this gift. The records at the National Archives and at Westminster hint at involvement to establish the Triple Alliance, but as relations with France soon soured, I think this became a bit of an embarrassment for the family. As you see, it has hardly been used, and it would certainly not have survived if we’d had it in the display cabinet with the other dishes.”

Sherlock frowned. “But why give it to us now?”

Mycroft blushed and murmured, “Do you remember aught from my stay in hospital?”

“Not much,” Sherlock admitted. “I’m told I was absolutely monstrous. I do recall you waking up the first time. And kissing you.”

Mycroft brought Sherlock’s hand to his lips. “Well, my dear brother, our parents bore witness to your… enthusiastic display of affection. I think this is their way of giving their blessing.”

Sherlock returned the kiss and smiled. “Shall we have tea, then?”

**Author's Note:**

> title from "To M." by William Gay


End file.
